Blood and Teeth
by Golden Snowflake
Summary: Bits and pieces of how Shadow is seen through my eyes. Life is quite an experience for the world's ultimate life form.
1. Like a Shadow

Heya! I've suddenly been hit by inspiration - I'm firing out Shadow-related drabbles and oneshots as fast as my fingers can go. Hopefully I can reflect how I'm seeing him through them. Why don't you take a look and see if I succeeded?

**.01.**

**.Like a Shadow.**

* * *

He flies by like a bullet; a black shell rocketing through space fast enough to tear it apart. The heat wafts from the pavement as the wind roars after him. It's insulted he's beaten it so thoroughly. The minute glimpse you caught was all fierce anger and the choice to kill on his breath, glittering in his beautiful eyes. The trail behind him is a glossy yellow as he glides gracefully into oblivion; miles away before you have time to blink.

Just as he'd materialized, he is gone.

You only think one thing.

_Whoa._

* * *

Brief drabble inspired by downloading Shadow music from the Internet.

May 10, 2009.


	2. he Runs

**.02.**

**.he Runs.**

* * *

Stillness. Anchored, eyes surveying all while narrowed cynically, unimpressed. He is small in stature, yet he knows his strength surpasses any he shall encounter. He is nearly unrivaled in speed, in accuracy. He is unrivaled in ruthlessness.

Slowly, he begins to move. Solid limbs making graceful arcs in his step, soldierlike in solidness but princelike in cockiness. Quills blow in the wind and his jaw sets.

He is merciless, but he is anything but self-centered. He is a bullet, speeding toward a destination. Shot from an unknown source and ripping through the air toward its only target. A target this bullet has yet to find; a target that may, in fact, be the same as his source. What gets in his way will suffer, but he will not cause pain for his pleasure. He is not an object of his own love. He is a question that is darkly shaped to be aerodynamic.

His swooping, jerky step speeds up. He moves to a trot that easily morphs to a jog, still as graceful as a deer.

He runs.

Fluid and smooth, the jets in his shoes letting off almost straight lines of light. He glides above the earth like wind, too ethereal to touch it yet real enough to destroy it. His eyes are almost indescribably hypnotic; jet black flecks of onyx swimming in pools of ruby melted with amber. He was not built to be beautiful. He was built to be a killer. And that's what makes him so glorious.

This bullet will find its target. He wanders forward, in search of it. To thank it for making him; to kill it for bringing him this pain. Maybe to do whichever comes to him first. Yet his speed is almost unparalleled, his willingness to destroy unchallenged. He is merely a shadow now. But this shadow will have its vengeance.

* * *

May 10, 2009

IGGAT MOAR SHADDIE MUSICS!!! 83


	3. Circus Park

**.03.**

**.Circus Park.**

* * *

His eyes narrowed, unimpressed. This place, to him, was utterly disgusting.

Orange, red, and yellow covered the whole thing – dark versions of the colors that looked like they'd been spattered accidentally with black paint before being mixed. Round doughnuts of light gleamed amiably down at him, dim yet headachy in intensity all at once. Rings.

Everywhere.

Rings slapped to wordless signs, obnoxiously subtle proclamations of power. Rings atop posts and pillars winking with little orange bulbs. Rings illuminating the goggles on the horrifically accurate picture of Eggman grinning maniacally down at him from the archway entrance. Energy snapped in the air; slightly minor-keyed music played from every shadow and corner, like happiness so twisted it's forced to hide its warped face. Jolly fun with a hint of insanity.

"Where the hell am I?" he asked the blob of hideous excitement spread out before him. It gave no response.

He started forward, a stride that would become a trot that would become a run; his menacing persona almost insulted by the crazy aura of the place.

If no one was going to tell him, he'd find out himself.

* * *

Circus Park – BECAUSE I CARE!

Heh heh. Actually, I got the music stuck in my head, and how the level felt flooded back. I didn't want to forget the phrases in my mind, so I wrote this as soon as I got to my laptop.

May 10, 2009


	4. Lion and the Lamb

**.04.**

**.Lion and the Lamb.**

* * *

Hesitating, he knelt. His eyes were wide in fascination as he leaned close.

One of the tiny creatures parted its jaws and squeaked. He jerked back minutely, quills fluffing. It stared at him thoughtlessly with its big, blue eyes, blankly fascinated.

It much resembled his own expression.

When it remained quiet, still among the group of wiggling, furry things, he leaned forward again. His brown eyes were still wide. Upon understanding that he'd noticed it, it squeaked again and tottered forward.

He waited, watching. The little creature approached on its unsteady legs until it could make it very clear that he was the one it was addressing. It then gave a loud, demanding mew.

Slowly, he inched his paw toward it, extending his index finger until it made contact with the kitten's throat.

_throatripcutshredbloodeverywherespurtingendingdeath_

His finger moved as little as he could make it shift. It was enough to make the baby cat rock on his flimsy feet but far less than enough to injure it.

He let off a little breath in relief.

He began to stroke the thing as gingerly as he could manage. After a moment, the blankly demanding look on its face was replaced with tranquility. An immense purr bubbled up from its throat.

Nothing was polite enough to inform him, but the great spirits all halted to take in this monumental happening: a creature made to kill petting a tiny, innocent cat. Moments like this were rare in the workings of the universe.

* * *

Weirdness spawned from … dunno. The idea of Shadow petting kitties.

May 10, 2009, listening to Imogen Heap.

Meow.


End file.
